


Graduation, Drama, and Trying not to Strangle your Future Brother-in-Law in Public

by Inkribbon796



Series: Ego Content Human AU [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Accidental Death, Actor Mark doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Blind Character, Bullying, Characters will be tagged as they arrive, Death of a child character, Edgar Allan Poe References, M/M, Only in the last chapter though, Service Dogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2020-03-04 23:05:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18822598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkribbon796/pseuds/Inkribbon796
Summary: Dark just wants to graduate, get his internship to that business company he’s wanted to be the CEO of, and probably kill Marc in back alley. Baby steps . . . baby steps.For: Doctor_Discord





	1. Study Hall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Doctor_Discord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctor_Discord/gifts).



> Okay, so, I wrote this for someone I’ve been following and looking up to for some time now and I haven’t published anything in years. I have not been to high school in years and if anything seems weird, that’s why.
> 
> Grounds rules:  
> -We play by real world rules, I may do actual fantasy stuff in another fic.  
> -Marc is Actor Mark, Mark is regular nice Mark we all know and love.

Chapter 1: Midterm Nightmare

    Study Hall at the end of the day was one of the only class periods Dark enjoyed. Mostly because he was given free reign to study and do what he wanted.

    “Which Empire is Istanbul in?” Edward Iplier asked Dark, he’d been rattling off study questions for Dark’s history midterm at a library table.

    “Ottoman,” Dark answered.

    “During Colonial times, universities graduates were mostly?” Edward continued.

    “Clergymen,” Damien responded, knowing he was right.

    “The first Windsor monarch was?”

    “George the Fifth,” Dark said.

    “And a 100%,” Iplier set the huge stack of note cards on the table.

    “Better be,” the Host scoffed, he service dog, a massive golden retriever by the name of Lenore calmly sitting at his feet. “If I lose that bet with Ms. Winstead I’ll never hear the end of it.”

    “I’m going to ace the midterm,” Dark boasted.

    “Just remember, second place isn’t going to be fed to the lions,” Iplier reminded.

    “I’d rather take the lions over letting Google be valedictorian,” Dark collected the note cards, hoping his teacher wouldn’t spring a surprise question on him.

    “You’re both seniors, after high school it doesn’t matter,” Iplier reminded.

    “What time is it?” Host asked.

    “15 till,” Iplier checked his watched.

    “I need to go to the nurse before the bell rings,” the Host decided.

    Iplier smiled at him, “You sure you’re not just skipping study hall?”

    The Host feigned a shocked and offended gasp, “I would _never_ , I’m not a delinquent like you.”

    Iplier rolled his eyes and stood up, helping the Host to his feet, “Oh yeah, says the guy with a three-year winning bet against half the teachers in this school.”

    “Quiet down, I can’t afford to be expelled,” the Host smiled back.

    “Good luck,” Dark told them. “See you Friday.”

    “Tell Wilford I said hi,” Host smiled as the two, and Host’s dog, talked to the teacher and walked right out of Study Hall.

    It left Dark in blissful near-silence to keep studying . . . a silence that lasted all of five minutes before the library door slammed open.

    “Mr. Barnum!” the library shouted, Dark slammed his face into the library table at his boyfriend’s antics.

    “This is for the greater good!” Wilford shouted in the library. Then he seemingly appeared in front of Dark. “Darky. Look sharp.”

    “What?” Dark began before looking up and getting a camera flash right to his eyes. “Arrgh!”

    Dark shielded his eyes, “Wilford, if you don’t delete that thing this instant, I will destroy that camera.”

    “Come on, Dark,” Wilford smiled, now that Dark wasn’t blinded by white light, he saw that Wilford had his favorite camera in hand. The pink mustached school report standing in front of him in his Queen band shirt. It was a little polaroid camera he’d had since middle school. He was shaking out the picture to help it develop. “This one’s just for me, I’ve got enough to fill the entire yearbook with nothing but you.”

    “Hilarious,” Dark snorted, glaring at the box of assorted arts and crafts supplies, glitter, a roll of pink paper and a vase full of flags. Then he frowned in disgust at the neon pink glitter now carpeting his part of the table in a thin layer. “Will?”

    “Yes, my love?” Will smiled obviously.

    “Get your box off my desk,” Dark snarled, the threat unspoken.

    Wilford frowned, lifting up the box to look at the mess of glitter underneath. “Oh, sorry.”

    “Mr. Barnum,” the librarian demanded. “Get that box out of here, and go get the janitor,  go with him too, Dark.”

    “Do I look like a willing participant?” Dark gestured to the glitter all over his books and study papers. “Will just get the janitor.”

    “Ganging up on me,” Wilford laughed, winking at Dark as he walked away with his box. “I’ll be back.”

    Once Wilford was gone, Dark took his coat off and brushed the glitter off his suit before having to take it off and shake it. He was straightening his suspenders when he heard Wilford whistling at him.

    “Will,” Dark snarled and the pink mustache maniac raced out of the library.

    One trash can later, his books and paper had 85% less glitter, and the library had one less Dark because he knew Wilford was coming back around. The bell rang, warning him he couldn’t stay after school for long. Desperate, he walked down to the football stands to find a place to study.

    “Dark.”

    Dark teeth ground together when he recognized Google sitting in the front row of the football stand. His study notes and cards in front of him. “Google” was a nickname given to him years ago, since he had a photographic memory that served as a living encyclopedia of almost everything someone could ask him. Dark would have been impressed if he wasn’t competing with him for their grades.

    “Google,” Dark greeted, noticing that the cheerleaders were practicing. “I figured Bing would be studying, he’s graduating this year, right?”

    “Oh he is,” Google hummed, double checking his small pint notecards. “He would have his face in a couple textbooks if I was worried about that.”

    Then Google looked at Dark expectantly, “What about Wilford?”

    “Well an A is presumptuous, but he’s guaranteed a B,” Dark boasted. “He’ll graduate.”

    “Hmm,” Google commented. “Well good, I look forward to hearing about that B.”

    “I’m sure,” Dark scoffed.

    “Hey, Dark!” Bing shouted warmly from the practicing cheerleaders. He in his uniform of a black tank-top with a red raven on the front of it. Bing was the only male cheerleader in the group. “How are we looking Googs?”

    Google rolled his eyes, “Fine.”

    “Well hello, Dames,” a voice that sent Dark’s entire being on edge, assaulting his ears and he watched Marc walk over with his duffle bag. “What are you doing here?”

    “Nothing you need to worry about,” Dark spat.

    “Oh, I’m sure,” Damien glared at him, resisting the urge to jump him in fury.

    “Don’t bother coming over tonight, our parents are home,” Marc smiled. “Wouldn’t want another fight would we?”

    “The only reason I’d come over if because if Will gets bad grades, it’ll make me look bad,” Dark lied, his fingers twitching.

    Marc just smiled, “Sure, we’re having hamburgers tonight.”

    “Don’t care,” Dark blurted out.

    “Just don’t try and poison them,” Marc baited as walked away.

    Dark realized he was shaking in anger.

    “I’d pay good money to know what happened between you two,” Google told him as Bing watched warily from the bottom of the stands.

    “It’s none of your business,” Dark scoffed, checked that Marc hadn’t stolen his bag, and then walked away in an angry rage.

   If Marc was here, then Dark wasn’t staying.


	2. Snake in the Grass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, hope you guys like it. I want to thank Mark even though there's no way he'll ever read this, for making such a great bully to use.  
> Side note: Bim and Wilford are always a blast to write.

    “Will, this is a stupid idea,” Dark warned, looking up at Will from where the reporter was standing in the auditorium catwalk, he was tying ropes for some prop that Dark couldn’t see.

    “Nonsense, Darky,” Wilford smiled, starting to head towards the ladder now that he was done. “It’ll go great.”

    “Okay,” Bim announced as he stepped out from the wings with a box that had glitter on it. “Got the glitter bombs.”

    “And it just got worse,” Dark decided. “Will, I’m still picking glitter off my suit from the library. I don’t need more of it.”

    “Oh, hey, Dark,” Bim greeted, “you come to watch the rehearsal?”

    “I’d only be watching a train wreck,” Dark spat.

    “Harsh,” Bim responded, looking up at Wilford. “I’m fabulous in it. Guess you haven’t been laid this week.”

    “I’m going to make you swallow those glitter bombs,” Dark threatened.

    Bim laughed, “Jokes on you, I’ve accidentally eaten tons on glitter already.”

    “What a waste of time,” Dark decided. “I’m going home.”

    “Come on,” Bim smiled. “You could use a real color on that holier-than-thou suit yah got.”

    Dark popped his neck a bit, grinding his teeth. “Trimmer—”

    The rest of Dark’s threat was swallowed in the sound of the auditorium doors flying open and the Jim twins standing there with crazed looks in their eyes.

    “Jim!” R.J shouted as he came in with a prop microphone, his identical twin brother standing behind him with the school camera.

    Dark turned in time to catch Bim digging a glitter bomb out and sizing Dark.

    “Don’t you dare,” Dark glared at him, but fortunately the Jim twins got in front of him to block him from Bim.

    “And here we have people skipping out on lunch,” R.J commented, the camera pointed at Dark’s angry and frustrated face. “What brings you to the auditorium, stranger?”

    “My boyfriend,” Dark reminded.

    “We’re married,” Wilford huffed, offended as he walked out from the wings. “And you call me forgetful.”

    “First graders can’t get married,” Dark held his hand in front of his face. The camera moving from Dark to Wilford as both Bim and the Jim twins had matching grins. “Can we not start this again?”

    “I was the prettiest bride on the school yard,” Wilford lamented. “If you and Marc hadn’t teamed up on me I could have been the priest.”

    “You can’t be the priest in your own wedding,” groaned Dark, for what felt like the millionth time, wishing six-year-old him had caved and just let Wilford be the priest.

    “Just you wait, when we get married for real I’ll be the handsomest, sexiest priest ever!” Wilford proclaimed.

    Dark wished the earth would swallow him whole, “Wilford, no, that’s not how it works.”

    “Does the groom accept his proposal?” R.J asked eagerly, moving back into his personal bubble. The Jims had _ZERO_ concept of personal space, and were - thankfully - considered crazy by most people. Which Dark celebrated daily. He let them do their thing, and a certain video never saw the light of day.

    “I already said yes,” Dark told R.J.

    “But we never got it on camera,” R.J lamented.

    “Let’s celebrate,” Bim decided, grabbing a glitter bomb in each hand. “Been itching to test these out.”

    “Would you be willing to show us?” R.J asked, C.J pointing the camera at Bim.

    “Only if I have a brave volunteer,” Bim looked expectantly at Dark. “Your outfit could use 500% less grey.”

    Quickly picking up on this, the camera was practically pushed in Dark’s face, “Will he do it?”

    “R.J,” Dark began.

    “Yes, _brave volunteer_ ,” R.J smiled.

    “No,” Dark ordered.

    R.J’s eyes alighted with uncomfortable recognition, actually taking a step back, as Bim glanced between them, but the unspoken conversation was done and the twins backed up.

    “You done?” Dark asked.

    R.J thought on that before regaining his former enthusiasm, “Yes, Jim and Jim will return to the library. Jims away!”

    Without another comment or note, C.J and R.J ran out of the auditorium.

    Bim to leaned over to Wilford and asked, “What was that about?”

    “Don’t worry about it,” Wilford smiled warmly. “It was probably nothing.

    “I’m going to grab lunch,” Dark decided heatedly.

    “Dark! Wait!” Wilford called after him as Dark stood out of the auditorium. “You know how Bim gets.”

    “This isn’t about Bim,” Dark spat at his boyfriend.

    “Well, color me confused,” Wilford admitted, the two looked over to see Marc standing in the hallway, the only way to get toward the lunchroom from the auditorium. Suddenly Dark had the clawing need to go and hide back in the stage wings behind them, but buried that in the deepest part of his brain he could find.

    “Was hoping I’d find you,” Marc smiled as he walked over, knowing Dark really had nowhere to run but towards him. “I wanted to talk to you.”

    “Marc, where have you been hiding?” Wilford greeted warmly.

    “Ah, I’ve just been around,” he grinned at his brother, “I just have to talk to your boytoy over here.”

    Wilford frowned at him, looking like he was thinking on stomping Marc's foot flat or punch him in the face, all three of them were too engrossed in their discussion to notice Bim and one of the other drama kids were eavesdropping from the door.

    “What could you possibly want?” Dark seethed at him before Wilford could reply.

    “Relax,” Marc grinned. “I wanted to talk to you about prom, since I know you’re going.”

    “Who said that?” Dark asked. “If you’re going to be there, I’m not going.”

    “Right, sure, whatever,” Marc rolled his eyes. “New idea: what if we really went out with a bang this year, Dames?”

    “That’s not my name anymore,” Dark reminded.

    “Not what the school attendance and your driver’s license says,” Marc reminded. “Just hear me out Damien, I want this year's to be the one that no one in this lousy town forgets, and you’re the only one who can help me with that.”

    “No,” Damien refused.

    “You didn’t even let me explain what it was,” Marc pouted.

    “Maybe you should leave, Marc,” Wilford cut in, trying to muscle himself in-between his brother and his boyfriend.

    “Come on, Dark,” Marc kept going as if Wilford wasn’t there. “We have a shot to really make some heads roll, and I know you’ve got something up your sleeves.”

    “I don’t care what you want, I hate you,” Dark reminded and tried to move past both of them. Both the brothers let him and Wilford hurried to catch up with him.

    “Think about it,” Marc smiled. “A real chance to shine and cut loose. I can get all the supplies and all you need to do is look nice on stage and stand still.”

    Dark’s brain finally caught up with him, catching the horrible jokes Marc’s was making about what he had planned for Prom.

    “Are you going to drop a bucket of blood on my head?” Dark asked in aghast horror, Wilford looked at his own brother like he’d lost his mind

    “No,” Marc gasped. “I would never.”

    Then he grinned, “I’d get Maggie from World History AP to do it for me. Can’t get my tux dirty once you start electrocuting people.”

    “You sick, demented asshole,” Dark spat, trying to push past Wilford to strangle Marc.

    “Marc, get out of here before I march all three of us to the principal’s office,” Wilford intervened, grabbing Dark by the shoulders and pulling him away. “Let’s go sweetheart, I think they’re serving pudding today.”

    “Let me kill him!” Dark snarled, fighting Wilford, who just decided to pick up his angry boyfriend and keep walking away.

    “Enjoy lunch, boys,” Marc waved after them.

    After they left sight of Marc, Wilford led Dark to the bathroom where Dark could have angry fit and curse Marc out. It took a while, and Wilford grabbing Dark’s lunch before he was able to fully calm down and was coaxed out of the bathroom.

    “Hey, Darkling,” Wilford decided.

    “What?” Dark asked, picking at his food.

    “So, first period, Bim and I were trying on dresses in the prop room,” Wilford told him.

    Dark paused, looking at him but seemed slightly less angry than he was a second ago. “Is it for the play?”

    Will shrugged, “Who cares, it was a nice dress. Found one for you too if you want it. We can match.”

    “I’m not in the play,” Dark reminded.

    “I can convince Mr. Walsh to let you wear it to the show, if you want,” Wilford promised.

    “If I promise to think about, will you drop it,” Dark allowed.

    “Only if you let me take you to Baskin’ Robbins,” Will smiled, leaning in close to Dark. “Come on, you know you want to.”

    “Fine,” Dark pushed the pink haired reporter away from him.

    “Perfect, we’ll have fun,” Wilford promised, kissing him. Earning him a slight half smile that lasted only a couple seconds before Dark frowned at his food again. His improved mood only lasted until they had to go to different classes where Dark was left to concentrate on anything other than Wilford, which he was able to handle for a while. The farther into the day he got the more something echoed through his mind, a memory he’d tried to bury for years.

    Those haunting last words echoed in Dark’s head. Something that had been callously uttered before Dark’s entire word crumbled from underneath him. Marc’s excited, gleeful smile curdling in his memory. _“Come on, Damien, we need a brave volunteer.”_


	3. What Shadows the Past Leaves Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Drags self out of the hellscape of work and family life) I live! Sorry this one was a bit longer that I originally planned. Hope you guys enjoy it.
> 
> Also, because I neglected to write this down I have the school years.  
> Seniors: Dark, Wilford, Marc, Iplier, Host, Google, Bing  
> Juniors: Bim, Jim Twins, King  
> Sophomores: Silver, Ed Edgar  
> Freshman: Eric, Reynolds
> 
> P.S. It's very awkward to write the Host in first person but I couldn't find a reason for him to go "the Host thinks" in a humans AU so I just didn't do and hope to get to play around with Host proper in future stories. Just thought I'd warn you guys.

    Bim wound up explaining the whole exchange between Dark and Marc to some of his mutual friends on their way to a party. They’d taken Ed Edgar’s truck after Bim promised to sit in the back so glitter wouldn’t get all over the front seat. Besides, that let Eric sit up front and none of the guys were going to cram the Freshman into the back with his prosthetics.

    As he told the story, Reynolds asking about twenty times if he was exaggerating, they got to the edge of town where Host and Iplier’s houses were. Bim had gotten to the Prom bit when Ed stopped the truck right on the edge of the Host’s driveway.

    Eric slowly got out, keeping a hand on the car door to steady himself out. Once Eric was out of harm’s way, Bim moved the seat forward and slipped out.

    “He said what?” Ed gasped as he closed the door of his truck, Ed and Reynolds were on the other side of the truck.

    “That’s awful,” Eric gasped as he came over.

    “I know, right?” Bim groaned. “Dark was so furious, he looked like he wanted to tear Marc’s throat out.”

    “But that’s a terrible thing to say,” Eric muttered in terror, the freshman almost cowering behind the car door.

    “Don’t worry kid,” Ed gently led Eric from the car door.

    Reynolds gave him the stink eye, “Hey, don’t push him too hard, the ground’s uneven.”

    “Relax, _Mom_ ,” Ed spat at him. “I’m not gonna let ‘em fall.”

    “About time you all shouted up,” Iplier yelled from the porch as they walked up.

    “I’m fashionably late,” Bim boasted, gesturing to himself.

    “Yeah, sure, right,” Iplier rolled his eyes. “You guys took a while to get here, I thought I texted you all the address.”

    “I’ve been to your house, just not to the Host’s,” Bim defended. “Didn’t know you two lived so close.”

    “Oh yeah,” Iplier laughed. “I’ve known Host since we were kids. This place is like my second home.”

    “Really?” Bim smiled as Iplier led them in.

    “We got company!” Iplier announced as he began to open the door

    “Edward,” Host’s mother called out. “He’s in the living room.”

    “Thanks,” Iplier smiled.

    “Man, no one calls you that,” Bim smiled.

    “She’s almost like my mom, she would have adopted me years ago if my dad wasn’t, you know, _alive_ ,” Iplier laughed.

    “Sorry King couldn’t come, he’s just been,” Bim began before they entered the house.

    “Avoiding Host?” Iplier smiled.

    “Well, I was going to make an excuse for him,” Bim breathed a sigh of relief.

    “Nah, I get it don’t worry,” Iplier smiled. “Tell him hi for us.”

    “Of course,” Bim promised as Reynolds walked in with Eric and Ed.

    Eric made a gasp, “You’re getting a tattoo?”

    Bim finally noticed the inky blue lines on Iplier’s right arm, it stopped just at the elbow, but since he was wearing short sleeves his shirt wasn’t enough to hide it.

    Proudly Iplier pulled up his sleeve and showed a raven head with a long ribbon-like bandage twisting around the corvid. The words on the ribbon were: _ex malo bonum_.

    “I’m getting it for Host,” Iplier explained. “Can’t wait until it’s finished. Been actually thinking of getting it raised so he can actually feel it. Not my first though.”

    “Really?” Eric looked a bit star struck by it. “How’d you get a tattoo? I thought minors couldn’t get them? Wasn’t your mom angry?”

    “Nah, my mom’s cool about it, she signed the form for my first one as long as it was small and I paid for it. I got my others one when I turned 18.” At that he showed a set of justice scales on his left bicep, words twisted around them that read: _“Timon of Athens Act IV, Scene iii”_.

    Bim smiled, “Hey, I know that one.”

    “That one’s King’s favorite,” Bim smiled. “He told me about that one. Host liked it too when I told him about it. My personal favorite’s Midsummer’s.”

    “Yeah, I can see that,” Iplier smiled.

    “What is it?” Eric asked.

    Bim wrapped an arm around Eric’s neck, “Oh, kid, we’ve got a world of fun insults for you.”

    “I-Is it bad?” Eric winced.

    “If it’s to a guy, oh yeah,” Bim boasted. “You should use it on your dad, he’s dumb enough not to know it.”

    “I-I-I don’t th-ink so,”  Eric stammered fearfully. “He’d um . . . he’d probably.”

    “Hey, let go of him, asswipe,” Reynolds spat, pushing Bim away as he and Ed moved Eric towards the living room where Host was looking in their direction, obviously listening in.

    “Rude,” Bim pouted, “I’m trying to teach the kid some useful life skills.” Bim glared from the doorway to the living.

    “At least wait until he graduates,” Ed scoffed, “after he’s moved out.”

    “But, uh,” Eric began nervously, starting to sweat and reached for his little yellow handkerchief to bury his face into it. “I don’t . . . I can’t . . .”

    Iplier hurried out of the kitchen, and calmly walked over to Eric, dangling a wrapped package of hot chocolate poptarts in front of him, a safe distance away from his face but still within his reach. Eric stopped muttering hesitantly and peeked out from his handkerchief to stare at the package.

    “Here you go, kid,” Iplier smiled sadly. “Picked ‘em up, I know they’re your favorite.”

    “Really?” Eric asked nervously, not reaching for it.

    “Yep, it’s all yours, I’ve got tons in the cupboard, go on, take it,” Iplier held it a tiny bit closer.

    Slowly, as if it was going to be snatched away from him by someone else, Eric took it and opened it up. Then he quickly began devouring it.

    Iplier sighed before walking over to the Host, placing a hand on his cheek before the two of them kissed. “I’ll grab the popcorn,” he offered as the tension in the room seemed to diffuse. “Come on, Bim.”

    “What’d I do?” Bim huffed.

    “Just come on, I need someone to help me carry the second bowl,” Iplier ordered.

    Bim knew he was lying, but didn’t want to risk upsetting Eric again by arguing with Iplier. The Freshman was finally calmed down and Bim wasn’t going to push his luck.

    While he waited for the popcorn to be done, Bim stood at the doorway and listening to the conversation, looking at the small cluster of pictures on the wall. Curious, Bim slipped into the hallway to look at them. He could feel Iplier staring at the back of his head, but the older teen didn’t do or say anything.

    There was the usual picture frames on the wall, most of the pictures recent ones of Host and his mother, or Iplier with the two of them, but the one that surprised Bim was a picture of a little boy in a small brown leather coat with brown eyes.

    Something that gave Bim pause, a sense of morbid curiosity twisting in his gut. Bim had gotten a look under the Host’s bandages exactly _once_ , and that once was enough to remember that there was nothing but empty red sockets underneath those things. He’d had nightmares for weeks after that.

    “Hey, Doc,” Bim began to Iplier.

    “What?” Iplier walked over with a bowl of popcorn in his hands, the second on still going in the microwave.

    “This Host?” Bim pointed to the picture.

    “Yeah, I forgot what a hellian he was back then,” Iplier smiled fondly at the picture.

    “What was that?” Host called out from the living room.

    “I was just telling Bim what an awful little brat you were,” Iplier goaded. “You were a cute little troglodyte, though.”

    Bim turned back to the pictures on the walls, wanting to get another peek at Host before he was probably not invited back, and as he scanned the pictures, he could have sworn he saw Dark in it.

    Which made sense, Dark, Wilford, Host, and the Jims had all come from the same elementary and middle school growing up. But up until Junior year, Dark had been the bane and fear of the entire school, Wilford and Marc being the only ones to ever stand up to him. Bim didn’t know he even had friends growing up, just pawns.

    But in one of the pictures it was some little league basketball team, and there was Dark, rounder in the face, and actually smiling. Not a forced grimace he did when he was coerced into smiling for a picture, but a real one.

    Quickly Bim read the names of the team, searching for Wilford, and there he was in the row just above him, looking like he was about to grab Dark to mess up the picture. The ten kids on the team were:

    (Top row): Marcus E. Barnum, William J. Barnum, Benjamin Butler, Blake Crank, Celine Doom

    (Bottom row): Damien Doom, Arthur Isaacs, Abe Lauer, Chef Ramirez, Y.N Rewiev.

    Bim stared at the picture, looking at the little things most people probably glossed over, for so long that Iplier walked over to him.

    “Bim, what are you staring at?”

    “Is this Host?” Bim asked, pointing to _“Arthur Isaacs”_.

    “Yeah?” Iplier answered.

    Bim turned back to the picture, he’d never seen so much malice in a kid’s eyes before. Whoever let the kid hold a bat was insane.

    “What’s wrong?” Iplier asked.

    Trying to save face, Bim pointed to Dark, trying to give a real laugh, “Dark’s real last name is _‘Doom’_? I thought everyone was joking. No wonder people think he’s a supervillain.”

    Oh yeah,” Iplier tried to smile back, obviously wanting the tense atmosphere defused. “He was teased a lot for it, I think he’s comfortable enough with it yet, he owns it.”

    “That’s good,” Bim backed away from the pictures, just as curious as he was anxious. “Cause everyone already thinks he’ll become a supervillain.”

    “Yeah, but Marc’s no hero,” Iplier scoffed.

    “We can put Eric or Silver on it,” Bim smiled.

    Iplier gave him an unconvinced look.

    “Yeah, on second thought, make that just Silver,” Bim corrected.

    “Edward,” Host called out from his couch, “when are Bing and Google coming?”

    Iplier checked his watch, walking over to Host’s side with the popcorn, “Shouldn’t be long now, maybe another ten or so minutes max.”

    “Good,” Host decided. “What were you two talking about?”

    “You,” Iplier smiled. “We need to get the other bowl before Bing and Google get here. Keep being entertaining.”

    “Right,” Host scoffed. Iplier set the bowl of popcorn in Host’s lap.

    “Don’t eat that all at once,” Iplier smiled. “I want some for the movie.”

    “Then tell Google to hurry up,” Host ordered, already grabbing some to eat.

    After grabbing the second bowl of popcorn, they all sat down, and Bim’s nosy curiosity got the best of him.

    “So you used to play baseball with Marc, Dark, and Wilford?” Bim dared. “That must have been a nightmare.”

    “Uh,” Iplier visibly began to lean against the side of the loveseat Host was in, pulling a pen out of his pocket. Host glared in his direction when he began to click the pen. The blind teen felt around so he could lightly tap Iplier on the side. The fidgety teen slowly began doodling on his arm instead.

    “It’s okay, Edward,” Host sighed. “There’s really no harm in telling this part. Besides, Bim’ll just keep asking. Better he asks us, rather that Dark or Wilford.”

    Iplier looked uneasy, just drawing on his arm.

    “So, what is it?” Bim asked.

    “Marc thinks he’s literally invincible,” Host explained. “That’s why he’s so awful to Dark.”

    “I thought his folks were just bigots and Marc just absorbed that,” Bim spat.

    “His parents are under the assumption that Dark and his family practice witchcraft, I think it’s just a misunderstanding.” Host leaned back in his chair.

    “Do they practice witchcraft?” Ed questioned.

    Host took a second to think about that, “I don’t think so. Dark’s mom prefers to use natural remedies usually. I know Dark’s gone to an actual hospital before.”

    “She’s a nice lady, Dark got his explosive personality from her, but she’s nice,” Iplier answered.

    “So did you two go to the same school as him and Will before high school, or was the baseball thing it?” Bim asked, his curiosity continuing to eat at him. “I thought it was just the Jims.”

    Iplier reached back to grab the Host’s hand, “No, Host went to elementary school with them but he and I went to a different middle school. I was just in the neighborhood”

    “So you guys were all buddy, buddy,” Bim realized. “What happened?”

    Iplier frowned, “We don’t talk about it.”

    “That bad, huh?” Ed asked.

    “Understatement of the year,” Iplier scoffed. “It ended so poorly that the explosion could probably be seen from space.”

    “Was there an actual explosion?” Ed asked, staring at him in interested curiosity.

    “No, but it was enough to alert the fire department,” Host cut in.

    “Nah, they took ages to get there,” Iplier refuted. “Remember?”

    Host turned a bit in his direction, even with his eyes hidden and bandaged, the withering look could still be seen. “I only remember dragging you into something none of us should have been messing with.”

    “We were kids,” Iplier reminded Host. “Everyone does dumb things as a kid.”

    “Don’t defend me, Edward,” Host spat, his tone downright venomous. “Don’t you dare.”

    “We were all stupid kids playing around in the woods,” Iplier began. “If any of us knew what Marc was going to do, I know none of us were going to be there.”

    “Last I checked you and Dark didn’t even want to be there even _before_ things got ugly,” Host argued.

    “M-Marc . . . uh . . . oh everyone’s looking at me . . . uh, did something?” Eric stammered out, looking around at everyone who was now looking in his direction since he was the one to actually speak up.

    “Well, he was messing around with stuff he shouldn’t have,” Iplier explained. “Got us all in some serious hot water, especially Dark.”

    “The old woods are full of a lot more than abandoned mine shafts and holes in the ground,” Host seemed less furious. “Marc just happened to find something dangerous and because of where he was standing, he was the only one who didn’t get hurt.”

    Everyone picked up on the _extremely_ evasive wording Host had used.

    “Dark and I just caught the worst of it,” Host looked down at his hands as if he could still see them. “We shouldn’t have even been there.”

    Iplier swiped his thumb over Host’s forehead before he pressed a gentle kiss in. “Nothing we can do about that now.”

    Host was quiet for a second as he thought about something. Then, Host spoke up, “Bim, do me a favor.”

    “What?” Bim smiled.

    “Don’t bring it up,” Host warned. “Ever again. Dark and I buried the hatchet. I’d like it to stay where it belongs: six feet underground.”

    Before Bim could think of a response, or even really agree a knock came at the door before Bing burst through, making the Host jump. Lenore standing up and moving so that Host could get a hand on her.

    “Wassap! Dudes! Bing shouted as he walked in with a cooler and a bag of DVD’s. “The party’s here!”

    Google was on his phone, following at a much calmer and even pace. He carefully closed the door behind him.

    “Where’s Dark and Wil?” Bing asked, looking around. “They making out in the bathroom?”

    “No,” Bim answered, still in a mood. “Dark had to be out of town for something and I don’t know where Wilford is.”

    Bing looked around, trying to joke, “Woah, what’s with all the sad sacks? Someone die or something?”

    “Bing,” Ed snapped.

    “What?” Bing carried the cooler over to the kitchen, frowning. “Did someone actually die?”

    “No,” Host answered.

    “Okay, good,” Bing started grinning again. “I got the movies.”

    Google walked over to Iplier, turned his phone around to show him something. “Found it.”

    Iplier suddenly had a devious smile on his face, “It’s perfect, you’re a miracle worker.”

    Google seemed to glow at the praise as Iplier pulled out his own phone to take a snapshot of whatever was on the screen. “I told you I’d find it,” Google boasted.

    “What? Can I see?” Bim demanded with eager curiosity.

    “No,” Google snapped, turning his phone off and pocketing it.

    Bim groaned, knowing than Google’s phone was impossible to get into. “Come on, why did you act all shady if I don’t get to know.”

    “Because you’re terrible at keeping secrets,” Iplier warned. “The whole school knows about what went down between Marc and Dark thanks to you.”

    “Hey, Jerry was there too,” Bim reminded heatedly.

    “Jerry is _still_ upset for Wilford sleeping with his girlfriend last year,” the Host reminded.

    “Yeah, but Wilford slept with everyone back then, what makes Jerry special?” Bim huffed out. “I want to know what you two are planning.”

    “Because Wilford has a thing for committed people with terrible boyfriends,” Google reminded sternly. “Don’t worry we’ll tell you in a couple weeks.”

    “This is so unfair,” Bim pouted.

    “Dudes,” Bing interrupted, trying to hold up about five different DVDs. “Let’s just watch some movies and we can argue about this afterward.”

    “I won’t forget this,” Bim promised overdramtically.

    Iplier rolled his eyes, squeezing into the armchair with Host, Lenore protecting Host’s feet so that she could nudge him if something was wrong. Host was quick to find Iplier’s face and give him a kiss. Bim rolled his eyes, knowing that Iplier: A, wouldn’t answer; and B, wouldn’t care if Host was closeby.

    Bim was too busy getting wrapped up into arguing with Ed about what to watch before they just watched a B-movie that wasn’t too scary for Eric to finally stop the arguing. Google complained but after Bing sat next to him, he turned to complain about how the people were acting in the movie.

    While the others watched the movie, Iplier made sure Host was comfortably, the two of them just soaking up the company in the room. The couple was cuddled up in the chair together, the Host cuddled into Iplier’s chest with an earbud in, listening to the descriptive audio. Occasionally Iplier would look down and smile at his boyfriend, a lazy smile plastered to Host’s face. Slowly the earlier conversation was forgotten as they just all had fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope I can get the next chapter out faster than this one came out. See you guys next time.


	4. Coffee with a Price

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say, as much as this chapter was a headache, Wilford is a fun character to right. One of the first ideas purposed for this story was Wilford running the school news program. I had to include it. Have fun, folks.

Dark had a coffee in his hands, and was trying desperately not to snarl at anyone, but failing. He hated morning classes with a burning passion. In his opinion school always started an hour too early for him. He had to quickly drink his coffee and then throw it away before he went into his AP Calculus class.

Grumbling under his breath he took his usual seat next to Google because as much as they hated to admit it: they despised 99% of the school - minusing their little group - more than their rivalry with each other. Other kids were already in the class, talking amongst themselves.

“Dark,” Google greeted.

“I’m missing two cups of coffee,” Dark warned him.

Google set a metal water bottle on the table, taking out a second one, “Careful, it’s hot.”

Dark eyed it for a second, “What do you want for it?”

“Dimitri was making fun of Bing,” Google warned, “if I deal with him, they’ll know it was me.”

“Oh,” calmly Dark took the water bottle, “This is for free.”

Google smiled, “Tape it for me, I’ll cover you.”

“Deal,” Dark smiled, tapping it to make sure the metal wasn’t scalding hot, then carefully drinking his new coffee as if it was water.

Dark finished his coffee before the teacher could figure out it wasn’t water, and slowly the class day began. Starting with the school news.

The jingle came on and when Wilford came on the screen, Dark tried to look like he was the stoic, cynical and unfeeling creature he preferred to be, instead of a lovesick idiot.

__ _ “Welcome ladies and gentlemen, and all other configuration of being,” _ Wilford smiled at the camera.  _ “I’m your beloved reporter: Wilford Warfstache.” _

__ _ “It’s Prom Week, so remember, Prom is tonight and if you don’t have a date by now,” _ Wilford smiled, winking at the camera and excessive amount of times.  _ “Well, you’re either not going or are extremely lazy, and if it’s the latter you can’t be helped.” _

Someone off screen hissed,  _ “Barnum, just for once can you stay on script.” _

__ _ “Script?” _ Wilford scoffed loudly, Dark rolled his eyes.  _ “Life isn’t scripted, so why should I care if you fu—” _

The connection abruptly shifted to R.J who was talking with someone off-screen,  _ “Yeah, but that’s not coming out until, like, the end of the month, we’re going— oh!” _ R.J looked at the camera and quickly smiled and grabbed a bunch of papers from the table in front of him.

__ _ “In other news, end of the year is coming up and make sure your library books are turned in and your fees are like Mr. Cartwell’s hopes and dreams: non-existent,” _ R.J had a huge grin on his face.  _ “It should be nice and sunny so I hope no one brought raincoats, otherwise you’re going to sweat yourself to death.” _

R.J’s eyes tracked something behind the camera, “And now, back to our anchorman: you love him, even Mr. Student Body President loves him: Mr. Warfstache.”

__ _ “—And that’s why JFK died,” _ Wilford concluded, looking like he’d won whatever argument had carried on off-screen. Then, as if he’d never been cut off in the place he gave one of his mad smiles and proceeded to continue with the school announcements.

Dark’s class was same as usual, the inevitable preparation for finals, and the mandatory project. Then he went to his senior English class, the only class he shared with Wilford. He was also required to sit next to him to keep the class in some semblance of order.

Wilford was in his seat, something already on Dark’s desk It was a thick little comic. Dark’s nickname on the front of the booklet.

All Dark could do was sit down and look at it in trepidation, last time Wil had drawn him something it had been . . . well  _ “inappropriate” _ and  _ “adult” _ were too clean for a description. Wil however was just humming to himself, playing with his own thumbs as if Dark wasn’t scowling at him.

“If this gets me sent to the principal’s office you’re sleeping in the guest room,” Dark threatened.

“What, me?” Wil gasped in fake offense. “I would never.”

He giggled to himself. “Come on, Darkie, just read it.”

Dark huffed out in annoyance, but began reading through it. It was a recreation of the Little Mermaid with Dark as Ariel, Wilford as Eric, and Marc as Ursula. Mark was always drawn in a very unflattering, wraith-like manner. It was just as scantily-clad as Wilford preferred his art, so Dark had to check what was happening around him so the teacher didn’t look over his shoulder.

But he got halfway through before he noticed what Wilford had snuck into the background. He frowned and went back to the beginning so he could rapidly flip through the book. In the background the book spelled:

__ _ FORGET MARC COME TO PROM WITH ME _

“Rather quiet, don’t you think?” Dark tried to deflect.

“You’d say no,” Wilford reminded. He slowly moved his hand over until it was protectively cupping Dark’s hands. “Come on, Darkling. I’d set this whole world on fire if you wanted me to. I won’t let Mark hurt you. I promise.”

“Wil,” Dark tried to deny, but one look at Wilford’s eyes and he felt the chinks in his armor. “Fine, but the instant Marc starts to act up, we’re setting his car on fire.”

Wilford immediately seized Dark’s lips with his own. Dark held the back of Wilford’s head, immediately trying to dominate the kiss. The teacher eventually cleared her throat.

“Mr. Doom, Mr. Barnum,” she began, the two of them broke apart. “If you two could save that for after my class, I’d appreciate it.”

Wil gave the teach widest, smugest grin he could, leaning away from Dark. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, teach.”

“That’s Ms. Wilson,” she corrected. Wilford rolled his eyes, but otherwise didn’t comment, too busy smiling lovingly at Dark. Dark already knew he wasn’t going to pay attention so he just started taking notes.

School dragged on at that point, but the more the day went on, the more word seemed to spread. Either Wil or someone in their English class must have started talking but by lunch everyone know Dark and Wil were going to Prom. Even without Mark’s Cheshire like grin, Dark already knew to expect trouble.

Just because he was petty, he threw a baneful glare at the one of the freshmen in Marc’s little entourage and she flinched and hid behind him. Marc laughed and rolled his eyes.

“So I’ve been thinking,” Wilford began as he dropped his lunch tray on their table, finally distracting Dark from glaring at Marc.

“About what?” Ed groaned, picking at his salad.

“About legally changing my name,” Wilford smiled.

“To what?” Dark asked.

“What else?” Wil smiles. “Wilford M. Warfstache.”

“What does the  _ “M” _ stand for?” Google asked.

“Motherluvin,” Wil grinned, making Google almost spit up his soda.

“You can’t be serious,” Google coughed.

“Deadly,” Wilford smiled back.

When Iplier and Host walked over, Iplier gave him a cheeky grin. They always showed last out of the group that had lunch together, the rest of their friend group had lunch a half-hour after them.

Iplier put his and Host’s trays down and pulled a folded up piece of paper out of his pocket before handing it to Dark. “There you go,” he smiled, and started on his burger.

Dark checked the paper, it read:  _ “23 59” _ .

Wil leaned over. “Hmm, what’s that?”

“Have you distributed this to anyone who needs to know?” Dark asked Iplier. Wil pouted at beng obviously ignored.

“Oh yeah, just make sure you’re gone by then,” Iplier answered. “Or, you know, not drinking anything. Five minute windows, though.”

“Perfect,” Dark answered and tore up the paper into tiny pieces, leaving the scraps in a semi-neat pile on his tray.

“Dark, what the devil is going on?” Wil asked in confusion. Dark silenced him with a kiss, and Wil pouted again. “That’s not fair.”

“Don’t worry,” Dark smiled. “Just a little bit of insurance for the night.”

“Which night?” Wil asked. “Prom? I thought you planned on not going?”

“I didn’t,” Dark reminded, “I just planned on . . . watching.”

“Will the cops get called?” Wil questioned suspiciously.

“I don’t see why,” Dark smiled. “Do you trust me?”

The answer was immediate. “Of course, of course I do.”

“Then,” Dark put his hand over Wilford’s, “don’t worry. You were saying about that name change?”

“Oh yes,” Wilford smiled, accepting the change in conversation. “It’ll be good to get rid of the Barnum shackles. We can move away, go to France; or, I don’t know, some tuna farm in the middle of Kansas.”

“Tuna are saltwater fish, they aren’t farmed,” Google cut in. “Certainly not in a landlocked state.”

“Can it, Encyclopedia Electronica,” Wil told him abruptly, not taking his eyes off Dark.

“We’re not starting at fish farm,” Dark reinforced. “You’d get bored.”

“With you, never,” Wil promised with a smile.

Dark gave a small smile, “ _ You _ are lucky you’re cute.”

“I’ll pick you up at eight,” Wil promised, kissing him on the nose before they kissed on the lips. Then the school reporter stood, “Now, if you boys will excuse me, I have a couple projects to work on.”

“Don’t burn down the room,” Dark told him.

“Pfft,” Wilford rolled his eyes, taking his lunch tray with him. “If anything’s catching fire, I’m taking the school with me.”

Dark rolled his eyes, but he didn’t stay in the cafeteria for long, deciding that if Marc was there, then he was leaving. So Dark left with Iplier and Host to go to the library, wanting just a little piece of mind before he had to go to class. Dark almost took Bim’s shoulder out of socket when he appeared suddenly in front of Dark which he was on his way out of the cafeteria.

“Hey,” Bim smiled, unaware or choosing to ignore his close maiming. “I heard the good news.”

“Marc choked on his own apple and I don’t have to breath the same air as him,” Dark evaded.

“No,” Bim corrected. “You’re going to prom.”

“So?” Dark pushed back him. Iplier and Host were talking behind him.

“Please, let me do your hair,” Bim pleaded. “Come on, I’m just about prepared to beg here.”

“I’m perfectly capable of doing my own hair, Trimmer,” Dark growled.

“You always just wind-up looking like an old man,” Bim snapped back. “Come on, it’s too late for you and Wil to be prom kings but we can still knock them dead.”

“I don’t need your help,” Dark spat, Mark’s threat from all those months ago echoing back into his mind, the sudden urge to stomp back into the cafeteria and gut him in front of everyone was almost enough to compel him into action . . . almost.

“It’s my last prom and you’re a masterpiece waiting to happen,” Bim reminded. “Come on, you want to beat Marc at his own game right?”

Dark pauses for a split second too long. “No.”

Bim smiles encouragingly. “You don’t want to be prom king, don’t accept but I can help you knock them dead.”

“What would that make Wil then?” Dark asked, hoping to change the subject.

“Come on,” Bim scoffed. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know.”

“I’ll think about it,” Dark acquiesced.

“Awesome, what time are you leaving your house,” Bim agreed.

“I didn’t say yes,” Dark reminded.

“Prom’s at nine, so I’ll be by at six,” Bim promised. “We need all the time we can get. Are you with your mom or your dad this weekend?”

“My dad,” Dark allowed.

“Great,” Bim was practically vibrating in excitement. “See you then.”

Then he was running off before Dark could stop him, leaving him to plan out the rest of his weekend. So he could end the year in peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh! This took forever, I had this chapter half done, realized it was boring trash and struggled to rewrite it. But I’m happy with it now.  
> Hope you guys like it.


	5. Prom Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bim helps Dark prepare for Prom, they both have fun in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this and the next chapter were meant to be one chapter but the characters had other plans, fortunately I got them both done so it’s a moot point

“Popular,” Bim sung with the song playing on his phone.

“Stop,” Dark grumbled, already regretting letting Bim get near his hair. They were well into a half-an-hour into Bim getting Dark’s hair ready. He’d saved  _ this _ particular song for the end, keeping all mirrors away from the senior.

“You’re gunna be pop-u-lar,” Bim grinned, combing through Dark’s hair. A band that had once been full of hair pins was on his left wrist.

“King will never find your body,” Dark warned as Bim kept singing working on his hair.

“You’ll hang with the right co-horts,” Bim kept going, Dark already resigning himself to rather amusing layer of purgatory Bim had dropped him into.

Bim was singing and flittering around Dark as the senior fought every muscle in his body not to flinch or hit Bim if he came at Dark at the wrong angle.

Then, in well-choreographed perfection, Bim pulled up a large mirror to match the song, “Why, Mr. Doom, look at you. You’re beautiful.”

Dark smiled appraisingly, hair tousled in just the right way with a little bit of a curl to it, and a little bit of eye shadow and eyeliner. “Thank you,” he told Bim, looking at him.

“Y—” Bim choked out, speechless and almost missing his line. “You’re welcome.”

He seemed to regain himself, “And though you protest, your disinterest, I know clan~ des~ tinely~”

“You’re going to grin an’ bear it, your new found pop-liar-ity,” Bim grinned wider, and then squeaked in delight as he jumped around the room, finishing out the song.

“How long have you been planning this?” Dark smiled goodnaturedly.

“Ever since I saw you in freshman year,” Bim smiled, turning down the music enough to talk normally, but still able to hear the Wicked soundtrack still playing. “You were an emo nightmare back then. The red combover and those spikes, what were you thinking? And I looked at you standing next to Wilford and thought: well that’s not right.”

Dark glared at him. “It was a one month thing.”

“Yeah, well I’m glad you went back to the suits, they fit the look you were actually going for,” Bim agreed.

“You came to school literally trailing glitter,” Dark reminded.

“Yeah well I still would if I wasn’t in danger of getting suspended again,” Bim defended. “At least now we both look fabulous.”

“You touch my hair with that glitter and you’ll regret it,” Dark warned, watching him suspiciously. “It’s bad enough when Wilford wears it.”

A knock came at Dark’s open bedroom door before it was opened all the way. Dark’s father was standing there, “How’s it going boys?”

“Fine,” Dark huffed.

“Hey, Barry,” Bim smiled. “What’dya think?”

Mr. Doom stepped in to get a better look at Dark. “You look nice.”

The corner of Dark’s mouth twisted up a bit. “Thanks.”

“Make sure you call me if Marc gives you boys any problems okay?” Mr. Doom told him firmly. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I’ll be fine,” Dark told him, standing up and moving towards the door.

Dark’s father grabbed him by the arm, fixing Dark with the most serious glare Bim had even seen on the man. “I’m serious, the Iplier’s, both of them, have taken enough from me. I refuse to let the next thing be your future. Do I make myself clear?”

Dark nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

The man smiled again, only an undercurrent of unease to him, “Good, cause it’s about time they gave us something for a change. I’m thinking a nice pair of rings and Wil. How does that sound?”

Looking away, Dark groaned, “Dad.”

“Don’t  _ Dad _ me,” Mr. Doom smiled. “I want another son. Now you boys have fun, don’t get into too much trouble and tell me how it all went.”

Dark’s phone began to let out his usual ringtone for Wilford started chiming with  _ Candyman _ . When Dark reaches for it all it read was:  _ “Here” _ .

“Right on time,” Mr. Doom smiled, and walked out. Dark followed him, reaching the top of the stairs before Wilford burst in the door.

“Mr. Doom,” Wil announced loudly. “I’m here to corrupt your youngest!”

“Wil!” Dark choked out.

“Hey Wil,” Mr. Doom smiled at Wilford, stomping down the stairs. The two of them hugged briefly. “I think we both know that ship has sailed, son.”

Wil looked up at Dark who just stood on the top of the stairs.

After a couple seconds of silence Dark began to fidget, popping his neck straightening out his tux. “Well don’t just stand there, say something.”

“You look amazing,” Wilford smiled, moving to the bottom of the stairs.

Dark started walking down, the two of them kissing once they were close enough.

King slipped in, fidgeting with his suit and bow tie, looking like he’d never even touched a suit a day in his life. “Bim?” King looked nervous.

“K,” Bim cheered, racing down the stairs and threw himself into his arms, almost bowling King back out the door. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks,” King smiled.

“Okay, you all can’t make out in my doorway, out,” Mr. Doom ordered. “Go have fun. Wil, I expect him home tomorrow, before 8 am.”

“A curfew, really?” Wilford huffed overdramatically. “What did I do to deserve such unfair treatment.”

“We both need to be in a meeting at 10 and I need to talk to him before then, so do whatever you want but I need him back early. And so help me, if your brother so much as breathes on him, I’m having your head for it.”

“Fine, fine,” Wil huffed out, “and don’t worry about Marc, he won’t be a problem.”

“Good, have fun, Dark, I’ll be working late, so make sure you have your keys.”

“Of course I have them,” Dark replied, the four of them leaving. “You don’t need to remind me. I’ll let myself in.”

“Well then, on the day you lock yourself out,” Mr. Doom smiled snidely, “I’ll laugh and let you handle it.”

“I’m not going to lock myself out.” Dark reminded.

“Right,” his father chuckled to himself and he walked away. “I’ve got work to do. I’m making sure all the windows are locked.”

Dark rolled his eyes and walked out with the other guys, all of them walking out.

“What was that about?” Wilford asked, looking back at the door.

“He’s changing the locks,” Dark explained as they walked towards the cars.

“And locking the doors and windows?” King asked in concern.

“Yes, why wouldn’t he?” Dark seemed confused. “Our TV alone cost a fortune. The only time we keep it unlocked is when we’re expecting company.”

“You won’t have a key,” Bim reminded.

“And you didn’t give me Marc’s head on a silver platter,” Dark reminded. “My dad wants me to break into my own house. I’ll be fine.”

“What does your dad do for a living again?” Bim asked.

“Architectural engineering,” Dark grinned. “He’s also an interior decorator.”

“Interior decorator, my ass,” Bim scoffed. “You know what, I don’t want to know in case you and Wil get arrested.”

“I would never,” Wil held the car door open for Dark.

Dark groaned, “Yes you will, and I’ll have to bail you out.”

“I resent that,” Wilford frowned, which was wiped off his face when Dark smiled and kissed him. When Dark got in, Wil closed the door carefully behind him. Dark faintly heard Wil talking to Bim and King and Dark pulled out his phone to quickly run a check with Google before Wil got back into the car. Once Wilford was back in, Dark sent a message that they were leaving his house.

“Why did I let you talk me into this?” Dark asked.

“Because you love me and the sex is amazing,” Wilford smiled, winking.

Dark huffed and looked away, “If you keep saying that I’ll go home, get my stripes, and you can sleep outside.”

“You wouldn’t,” Wilford smiled lovingly, driving towards the high school that wasn’t too far away. “So, we’re going to Yard House with everyone after we leave. You said we’re leaving before 12, right?”

“Yes, you got reservations for a table there, right?” Dark asked.

“Yes, yes,” Wilford smiled.  “You should have let me call a limo.”

“And announce my presence to Marc, I don’t think so,” Dark huffed out. “Besides your car is still new and you haven’t destroyed it yet.”

“Just because my bike is in the shop doesn’t mean anything,” Wil defended. “Besides, it’d be such a shame to mess up your hair after Bim put so much work into it. Well, at least for now.”

Dark smiled. “All I care about is having a nice evening and Marc having a terrible one.”

“Let’s focus on  _ our  _ evening,” Wilford grinned.

The rest of their conversation was taken up by Wilford talking about just about anything he could think of as it appeared spontaneously in his head. It let Dark know that he was actually serious about that name change, which surprised Dark. When they reached Prom, which was an old airfield that the city used for big events, the building on the airfield was decorated and illuminated. Wilford picked a place to park.

The school reporter quickly got out and opened the door for Dark, holding a hand out for him to take. “We’ll do a couple dances, grab dinner, and then I’ll bring you back home.”

“Sounds like a lovely evening,” Dark admitted, feeling that just about anything was bearable with Wil by his side.

Wil smiled, spinning Dark before pulling him closer. “Marc’s not going to do anything, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Wil,” Dark warned, looking into his eyes, starting to lean in.

Then, suddenly a flash went off and Dark flinched, pulling away from Wilford.

“Score, Jim!” RJ announced, standing next to CJ. Both of the Jim twins standing close by, both in suits but neither of their ties were on correctly.

“If I see that in the yearbook, I am murdering both of you,” Dark threatened.

“Yearbook?” RJ scoffed, “no. Don’t worry about it, we’ve got a friend scrapbook to put this into.”

“Show me the picture,” Wil demanded, leaving Dark’s side to look at the camera and after appraising it for a bit, he handed it back. “Good angle, I like it. Send me a copy.”

“Wil,” Dark huffed.

“Let’s go,” Wilford took Dark’s hand in his and started to lead his boyfriend over to the front of the school, the Jims behind them. At the front of the school Bing, Google, Host and Iplier were all waiting. Bim and King were racing to catch up with them.

“Okay,” Dark took a deep breath, Wil took his hand and they all walked in.

Prom had already begun by the time Dark and Will took their group, Dark stopping the twins for a solid minute or two to straighten their ties.

“Stop squirming,” Dark grumbled, pulling CJ by the tie to anchor him in place. “You two are a mess.”

“Thanks,” RJ smiled, trying to slip away before Dark reached out and snagged RJ by the tie as well.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Dark growled.

“Prom?” RJ grinned nervously.

“Not like that,” Dark overannunciated, “Wil.”

“Okay,” Wilford shrugged and grabbed RJ by the shoulders. “You heard Dark.”

“Ugh, sometimes you guys act like my dad,” RJ rolled his eyes.

As soon as he was done fixing CJ’s tie, Dark turned to RJ. “I’m not going to just let you two walk in there.”

“We’re fine,” CJ dismissed, hands already starting to go up to his tie.

Without even turning around, Dark slapped CJ’s hand away. “Stop that, if I see your ties crooked again I’ll glue them on.”

“Fine,” RJ complained.

“Everyone here?” Dark asked, surveying the group.

“Yeah, we’re going to knock this party dead,” Bing cheered.

“Excellent,” Dark smiled, and looked back at the Host who had a wide grin. Which was all the information Dark needed.

Wilford stuck out his arm, and Dark took it. Calmly the group walked up to the entrance. The clock struck 9:05 on the dot.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the best revenge is best served on the dance floor, or a little bit after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I changed the tags because I didn’t know if I was going to do this in a side story, but there is the death of a child in this chapter but it is not shown in detail.

~::~ Six Years Ago ~::~

“It’s this way!” Marc promised as he charged through the woods with reckless abandon, walking as quickly as the dense undergrowth allowed him. It was pitch blank with the dense trees and the cloud cover. It had been usually rainy all week, especially for the early October season.

“We shouldn’t be out this far,” Damien warned, trying to keep up with Edward at the back of the group. Marc poked his head around the trunk of a tree, almost slamming into Arthur and his bat.

“Come on, Dames, what? You afraid of the dark?” Marc teased with his huge grin.

“No,” Damien frowned. Celine was with William near the middle both of them turning to look back at him. “Just . . . isn’t this George’s property? I don’t think we’re still on the property.”

“It’s fine,” Marc promised, turning to Celine. “Come on, guys, tell him.”

“Marc’s right, it’s late,” Celine agreed. Damien frowned, she was always agreeing with Marc lately. Damien hated it.

Then she turned to William, “Right, Wil?”

“Yeah, he’ll never find us,” Wil agreed and Damien felt a twinge in his heart at that betrayal.

Desperately the younger twin turned to Edward, but when he opened his mouth, Arthur took a step closer and he hid behind Damien.

“Fine” Damien spat, stomping after his  _ “friends” _ , it was Edward’s turn to keep behind him. “How much farther is this thing? If you three drop me into another mine, I’m telling Mom.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Celine warned him.

“It’s not much farther, Y.N is waiting for us,” Marc promised. “It’s the coolest thing ever, you guys are going to love it.”

“Great,” Damien spat.

Slowly William dropped back, his prop army hat almost too big for him. “Come on, Dames, it’ll be fun.”

Damien looked away, almost tripping over a root and grabbing onto Wil to steady himself.

“Keep up, lovebirds,” Arthur called back at them. “You can let Wil carry you on the way back.”

Damien was half tempted to grab a stick and hit him with it, but knew better. Arthur was the best batter on their team, he wouldn’t win. Arthur was even grinning back at him, moving his bat a bit more than necessary.

“This is such a bad idea,” Edward whispered to Damien as they followed Marc and Arthur. “We are going to get into so much trouble.”

“We’ll just blame it on Marc,” Damien whispered back angrily, his pride was too strong — even at this age — to stop him from heading back. “This was probably Celine’s idea anyways.”

They approached the dark outline of a rock wall, a small cave in it.

Damien rolled his eyes, unimpressed, “I thought this wasn’t going to be another dumb mine shaft.”

“It’s not,” Marc promised, and Arthur hit his bat to the rock wall three times. “It’s better, come on.”

The flash of a light turned on as Y.N quietly walked out, beckoning them to come forward. “Better be worth losing a whole Friday night,” Damien complained.

“Don’t worry so much,” Celine turned on her flashlight to make walking through the dark tunnel bearable.

“Did they already take it?” Marc asked Y.N, who signed a  _ “no” _ .

“Awesome,” Marc’s grin got wider. “So, this is great guys, it’s perfect.”

Marc took Y.N’s flashlight and stopped them, turning his light on a beat up machine. “Guys, they dug this out of the bottom of the mine.”

“So?” Damien groaned.

“What does it do?” Wil asked his half-brother.

“It’s used for blasting holes in the mine, but it’s like super old,” Marc said. “But I was here with Celine and we got it to work.”

“Ugh, I knew you were behind this,” Damien told his sister, when he felt Edward trying to slip back towards the entrance, Damien grabbed him. “Hey, if I have to stay for my dumb boyfriend, then you do too.”

“We should really get out of here,” Edward pleaded.

In the background, Damien heard Marc scrambling up creaking, old metal, and say to Y.N, “Hey, pass me that rock, I want to see how far down this drop is.” The metal already creaking and straining beneath his weight.

“That’s it, I’m out of here, come on Wil,” Damien vindictively kicked a rock towards Arthur.

At the same time, Arthur boasted, and swung his metal bat at the machine, as if trying to prove his point. “Quit being a worry wart, it’s fine.”

There was a THUD efore something metallic snapped. Marc screamed in pain, but his scream was drowned out as the machine hit just the wrong part of the wall, collapse part of the moss-worn surface. The old-weather beaten out cropping started a cascade effect as rock that had already been in danger of collapsing it its breaking point.

Damien only had time to think of Celine and William who had been somewhere in the dark in front of him. He screamed as a large pieces of rock slammed into him.

And the world went black.

 

The next bit came and went for Damien, he heard Will shouting in the blackness in confusion but Dark was too rattled and dazed to call back out. He sank back into unconsciousness anyways, his neck and back hurt so much.

When Damien woke up again he stared in confusion at an off-white wall. His whole body felt tingly and he was so confused at where he was and how he’d gotten there, but a familiar sight calmed him down. He saw his dad sitting in a chair, staring at the wall.

“Daddy?” Damien called out hoarsely.

His father startled and for the first time in his life, Damien saw him crying. “Dames? Dames!”

The man rushed to Damien’s bedside and hit the nurse call button. “You’re awake. I thought you’d  _ never _ . . .”

Damien’s fingers twitched, trying to reach out to him, but his body felt so heavy. Damien began crying too, scared and hurt.

The nurses came in, immediately starting to do tests. What he could feel, what he remembered. It would be a week before Damien got the horrible news: his only sister was gone. They doubted Y.N would pull through. Arthur was undergoing surgery to remove his almost destroyed eyes. Edward had to wear casts. Will had suffered brain damage in the accident, a complete lack of memory recall of the last couple hours before they’d entered the cave.

But  _ Marc _ had already walked out with nothing but scrapes and bruises.

In the coming months as his parents started arguing, as he was forced to watch them lower a casket that was  _ far too small _ into the ground, Damien swore that while he wasn’t afraid of the dark anymore. But he’d make Damien sure that Marc did. He’d make Marc afraid of the  _ dark _ !

Or he’d kill Marc trying . . .  
  


  * ~::~ Present Day ~::~



To say Dark hated crowds was an understatement. He’d been raised his whole life by his father to avoid them. Any number of things could happen when people were pressed close together. So it went against everything in his soul when he saw the amount of people in what was once a hangerbay for old airplanes.

But Dark had a job to do, and an image to preserve. Wil handed over his and Dark’s tickets and they walked inside, Dark surveying the room for a safe location to sit down for a bit. Bing was immediately making a run for the DJ booth where one of his friends was, Chase. The two had been good friends growing up, and Chase had graduated last year from a different high school in the area.

For the longest time, Dark didn’t actually catch more than the back of Marc’s head through the crowd. There was a snack and punch table that Dark made sure he was seen eating and drinking from before actually doing a couple dances with Wil off in their corner of the room, not daring to be caught in the center of the crowd with Marc around.

It also helped Dark keep a close eye on the rest of their group. Mostly because the last time he’d trusted Marc with a group of people it had gone terribly for Dark.

At 11, Google walked back over to Dark, who was hovering by their table. Wilford had run off into the crowd to dance and Dark wasn’t about to stop his living cannonball of a boyfriend. Google had two cups of punch in his hands and set one down for Dark. He tapped the rim of his own plastic glass twice before drinking all it almost at once.

Dark nodded and took a cautious sip from his own drink. “My compliments to the chef. What brand is it?”

“It’s an Amontillado,” Google answered and Host looked their way before turning back to Iplier. “I think.”

Dark hummed in response, taking another sip, before checking his watch. 11:03.

“Darkling,” Wilford charged out of the crowd to stand in front of Dark. “Come on, I’ve convinced Chase to play our favorite.”

“If you insist,” Dark took his hand and they walked out to the dance floor.

The next song was a slow song, specifically Death of a Bachelor which the two had danced to before. The song let Dark forget for a moment that he was here to slight Marc’s existence.

“May I?” Marc asked as the song began to close out, melding into another slow song.

Wil glared at him, hugging Dark closer to him, “No.”

“Come on, I won’t hurt him,” Marc grinned. “I just need to talk.”

“If I talk to you, will you just go away?” Dark groaned.

“Yeah, of course,” Marc promised. “Cross my heart and all.”

Dark’s mouth twitched in a smile, not rising to the obvious bait. “Stay close by,” Dark told Wil, but the school reporter didn’t let him go.

“Wil, let me go, I can just beat him into the floor if he tries anything,” Dark told him.

“Big words, pretty boy,” Marc brows furrowed. “We both know you’ll just have Wil do your dirty work as usual.”

A particular biting threat was at the tip of his tongue:  _ “I can always poison you, I don’t need Wil for  _ that _ ” _ but Dark held off.

“Wil,” Dark pried Wil’s arms away from him, turning around to give him a kiss. “Just keep an eye on him.”

Reluctantly Wilford let him go and Dark took Marc’s hand and after a little bit of a stand-off, Marc let Dark lead the dance.

“What do you actually want?” Dark asked dryly, thankful that the slow song was already half-over.

“Can’t I just have a dance?” Marc told him.

“When have you ever just wanted anything?” Dark spat.

“You know, Dames, sometimes I think you’re holding something against me.” Marc had the nerve to give Dark a look somewhere in the middle of confused, hurt, and snide; all at the same time.

“Really?” Dark spat. “You decided to bother me, take a dance from Wil, just to bring  _ that _ up?”

Marc grinned and grabbed Dark’s hands to take control of the dance. “Look, I know you’ve got Wil on some kind of a love potion. I mean, how else are you getting him to do whatever you want?”

“I’m not drugging your brother,” Dark spat in disgust. “How dare you!”

People turned at that last half of his outburst, that half being loud enough to hear over the music.

“Dark,” Will started to move forward.

“How dare  _ I _ ?” Marc scoffed. “You tried to kill me in a cave because you were upset you sister was dating me.”

Marc couldn’t have handed the night to Dark any better than if he’d stabbed himself.

Dark felt his very soul burning with fury, and even if Dark hadn’t been looking for an opportunity for the last six years to punch Marc in the face, he still would have taken it.

“You bastard!” Dark shouted, and slammed his fist into Marc’s face and dropped him to the ground. Marc just grinning at him.

Immediately two pairs of hands pulled him back. Wil, and Google, the later who had obviously walked over during Dark’s dance with Marc.

“Let me go!” Dark threatened loudly as Google tried to pull him back.

“What is going on here?” One of the teachers rushed over, freezing when she saw Dark.

“He was accusing me of something I didn’t do!” Dark shouted.

“Doom over here, punched me in the face!” Marc gestured to the bruises already forming on his face. “I was trying to be nice over here.”

“Nice?” Dark was still struggling against Wilford who had Dark around the waist to try and keep him, putting stress on his neck, which was weakening his struggle bit by bit.

“Dark, stop, you’ll hurt yourself,” Wil tried to warn.

“He doesn’t get to insult me, ruin my life, and walk away from it!” Dark threatened.

“I think it’s best you leave,” the teacher told him, a hint of wavering fear in her voice.

Dark used every single bone and muscle in his body not to smile. His soul warring between continuing with his plan, and acting wanting to murder Mark in cold blood for everything he’d ever said and done to him. “Fine! I didn’t even want to be here anyways!”

Wil seemed to sigh in relief, trying to take Dark away from the situation before Dark decided to put up more of a struggle, “Come on, Darky.”

“You hit me in the face, you don’t get to just—” Marc stopped forward.

“Marc,” Host called out, the crowd parting for him.

“Arthur,” Marc greeted.

“Don’t,” the Host warned, Lenore and Iplier by his side and nudging him in the right direction. “Dark and Wilford are leaving. You should let them leave.”

Marc scoffed and walked forward, Iplier looking nervously at him as he got closer and closer to the Host. “Really, what are you going to do about it, Hosty? Huh?”

Host moved his head forward a little bit, or at least was making a show of it, but he quickly reached out and grabbed Marc by the lower chest, tugging him closer. “Marc, Marc,” the Host grinned a bit too wide. “We both know,  _ I only have to hit you once _ .”

Marc actually looked a little intimidated by the Host’s threat, clearing his throat. “Right, right.”

The Host let go of Marc, fumbling a bit before patting Marc on the arms. “Have a nice night, Marc.”

“Same,” Marc smiled, as if the Host could still see him. “I’m just going to go.”

The Host smiled back, “That sounds like a great idea. I’m grabbing some punch and croissants.”

Wil and Dark, once they were sure Marc wasn’t going to turn on the Host, were finally convinced to leave. Dark still clearly furious.

“I hate him, more than anything in the world,” Dark told Wil, stomping off. He carefully checked his watched as it hit 23:59.

“We’re a bit too early for the reservation,” Wil warned Dark, checking his phone, unlocking his car as soon as they were close enough. Dark was already moving to fast to let Wil open the door for him.

“I don’t care, we’re just getting out of here,” Dark decided as he yanked the door to Wil’s car open, slamming it closed as he got in.

“Right,” Wil said before the car door slammed closed. He got in, taking his sweet time to start the car before starting to drive off. They’d gotten ten minutes from the Prom, before Dark’s phone went off. He checked it to find a single text from Google’s phone:  _ “In pace requiescat” _ and Dark smiled. Then he laughed, a deep chuckle that startled Wil as he was driving out of the parking lot. The school reporter pulled off on the side of the road to just watch Dark in concern.

“Dark?” Wilford asked.

Dark held a hand up and just laughed for a bit as he had his moment. “Just a second,” he chuckled. “I can’t believe it worked!”

“Dark, what did you do?” Wilford asked.

“Nothing,” Dark lied, smiling. “ _ I _ did nothing,  _ I _ got kicked out of Prom. Although I still want to kill Marc for what he said.”

“So what did you actually do?” Wil asked, clearly a bit more curious that uneasy.

“I had Marc’s drinks spiked with laxatives,” Dark smiled. “We did it while he and everyone else was watching me.”

Wil was silent. Then he started howling in laughter. “You little demon,” Wilford managed to choke out, his forehead on the steering wheel.

“For a second I thought you actually killed him,” Wilford finally stopped laughing enough to speak. Still smiling at Dark.

“Not yet,” Dark admitted. “Wouldn’t have gotten away with it. I give him at most four more hours before it hits him like a truck. His weekend is over.”

“Honestly,” Wil’s hands tensed on the steering wheel, starting to drive again. “I thought you were going to kill him tonight.”

Dark thought on that, “You went to Prom with me, thinking that I was going to murder your brother?”

Wil was quiet for a little while, but when they stopped at a red light he admitted, “Yes.”

Now it was Dark’s turn to avoid the conversation for a little bit. He didn’t know whether to be heartbroken that Wil had so little faith in him, or to kiss him.

“I’m going to kill him one day, maybe not now, but I’m going to put him in an early grave,” Dark vowed. “He’ll let his guard down, and when he does, I’ll finally get him back for everything he did.”

“So, how much do you want to gloat about this?” Wilford asked, an ear-to-ear grin on his face when he glanced at Dark.

“Wil, I love you, but if you rat us out, I’m locking you in your own trunk,” Dark threatened.

“Only if you’re in the trunk with me,” Wil suggested, leaning a bit wards his boyfriend.

“No,” Dark glared at him, pushing him away when they hit another red light. “I’m not.”

Wilford grabbed Dark by the back of the hand to kiss it, “Of course, Darkling.”

“Wil, the light is green,” Dark grumbled, looking away to hide his blush.

“Oh, right,” Wil looked up, checking, before he hit the gas, the two of them driving off to wait for the other group at the restaurant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally done with this chapter. I might do more with this AU but I’ve got other stories in the superhero AU to work on. So I don’t know if or when I’ll come back to this one. But I might.


End file.
